


Thinkin’ Past Tomorrow

by aidennestorm



Series: We Keep Living [6]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Star Trek Fusion, Angst, Friendship, Hopeful Ending, Implied/Referenced Suicidal Thoughts, M/M, Pining, Power Dynamics, Recovery, past trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:22:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24241276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aidennestorm/pseuds/aidennestorm
Summary: They’ve only just started to find their footing again, but even a stumbling step forward is still a step.
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/George Washington, Gilbert du Motier Marquis de Lafayette & George Washington
Series: We Keep Living [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1136549
Comments: 4
Kudos: 26





	Thinkin’ Past Tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dreamlittleyo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamlittleyo/gifts).



Hamilton spends two weeks off duty. 

It’s an agonizing two weeks. Even while he’s on the bridge, Washington can’t help but startle a little at every new notification that pings around him, on his padd and at the communications station that Washington can’t bear to look at _—Hamilton’s_ station. He’s expecting at any moment to receive Hamilton’s transfer request, signed in his boy’s hurried hand, or Doctor Schuyler exercising her rank as CMO to order a detour to the nearest Starbase that can provide Hamilton with better care, or an urgent summons to sickbay because this time Hamilton found a more permanent way to end his pain, or or _or—_

And that’s not to mention his chief engineer, running herself into the ground daily even as she runs his ship. Even with the wounded anger he knows she still holds for him—for all her expertise with mechanics, Peggy Schuyler has never been able to have the same finesse with people—she never shirks her duties, not once, never disrespects him in front of the crew, and simply outright avoids him otherwise.

But he’s been keeping tabs on her too. From all reports her methods of coping are much healthier than Hamilton’s, and he can’t fault her for spending her free time with a friend in need. No matter how far he’s fallen in the eyes of his senior staff—the only ones who know any kind of details about what happened, even the most oblique ones—no matter what disdain they might hold for him, he still _cares._

Doctor Schuyler includes mentions of her sister in her status report, and Washington responds only to express his gratitude that Hamilton has support. 

When she makes it a point to ask Washington who’s taking care of _him,_ he leaves that message unanswered. 

He’s still captain. Hamilton hasn’t left yet. That’s enough. 

But apparently it’s not enough for Commander Lafayette, who’s waiting for Washington in his quarters the night before Hamilton is scheduled to be released back to full duty shifts. His long limbs are stretched out over the arm of the chair as he lounges, and he steadily holds Washington’s eyes, his voice sure. “If you’re not going to talk to me, George, then I’m not going to give you a choice in the matter.”

An ugly laugh tears out of Washington’s throat, but Lafayette is unmoved. 

“That’s what got us into this—this _mess_ in the first place,” Washington finally retorts sharply. _“Choices.”_

Lafayette continues to hold his gaze, and doesn’t say anything. 

“Get _out,”_ he rasps, confusion and frustration mounting when Lafayette finally stands—but approaches _him,_ instead of turning toward the door. “Damn it, Gil—” 

He freezes when Lafayette puts careful arms around him, strong enough to be supported, loose enough so he doesn’t feel trapped. It’s been—it’s been _weeks,_ Washington realizes, since someone has touched him, let alone with such care—

He’s blinking through blurriness before he fully comprehends the tears in his eyes. 

“I should have done this weeks ago,” Lafayette confesses. Quiet, like he’s afraid any volume to his voice will startle Washington away. “I’m _sorry.”_

He knows he’s not imagining the meaningful weight in his closest friend’s voice, finds himself helpless against it. He sags, and Lafayette is there as he sinks to the floor. 

“I’ve got you,” Lafayette murmurs. “No matter what happens tomorrow. I know—” he says, forestalling when Washington opens his mouth to interrupt, “—I know what you think you deserve, but I will have faith enough for the both of us.”

* * *

Washington spends the rest of his ultimately sleepless night on one of the observation decks. 

Washington is staring aimlessly out the viewport when the door opens. He doesn’t turn—how can he begrudge his crew the space to wander in search of hard-sought solace when he does it himself—but his spine straightens when he hears Hamilton’s voice, uncharacteristically hesitant. 

“May I come in, sir?”

He tries to keep his tone steady, level, even though his heart feels like a knot in his chest. “Of course.”

Hamilton approaches, quick and quiet as usual, but instead of filling the silence with immediate noise, he simply halts about a foot from Washington’s elbow, and joins him in looking out at the stars.

It’s the closest he’s come to Hamilton since _that day,_ and Washington can’t _breathe._

“I wanted to let you know I’m grateful,” Hamilton murmurs finally. Washington glances sharply over at him, but Hamilton’s face doesn’t change. “For saving me when I couldn’t do it myself.”

Washington nods tightly, relief and terror alike twisting in his stomach. He chooses his words carefully. “I’m pleased to know Doctor Schuyler’s recommendations have been successful.”

Hamilton turns his head to look at him—truly meets his eyes for the first time in a long time, _too long—_ “For that too, but that’s not what I meant, sir.”

Washington feels like he’s in freefall. 

“I can’t thank you,” Hamilton confesses, now in the rush of words and feeling that Washington is so used to. “I just—I _can’t._ But I know now that I don’t _want_ to die. I almost did, twice, and I would have if not for you.”

Washington shakes his head, forcing the words across his tongue gone numb with shock. “You don’t have to—” 

Hamilton raises his eyebrows. Gone is the mania, and in its place a settled core of steel. There’s no rebuke, only confidence, when Hamilton reminds him, “It’s _my choice.”_

He doesn’t deserve this man. But Washington cannot help but feel utterly, deliriously lucky to have him, in _any_ way he can. “I appreciate your honesty.” It only feels slightly reckless, now, to add his long-awaited, “I’m sorry.”

Hamilton studies him for a moment, and Washington resists the restless urge to move under his piercing gaze. “I know,” Hamilton says, finally. But then—

Then Hamilton’s face _relaxes._

It’s not a smile, not even close. But there’s an undeniably lighter tone to his voice when he turns away. “See you on the bridge, sir. At least try to pretend to get _some_ sleep.”

Washington watches him leave without being dismissed, gaping after him. It’s an undignified look but he can’t bring himself to care because for once—

For once, morning can’t come fast enough. 

**Author's Note:**

> Keep taking care of yourselves, friends. <3


End file.
